


Rise Up

by mrs_squirrel_chester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-04 17:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6667411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Davena doesn’t know who… what she is. All she knows is that every so often, she bursts into flames.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It started with a sting of electricity along the back of Davena’s neck. Ruffling her long hair, she scratched at the sting, desperately hoping it was just the dry air and the fact she was wearing socks while walking on the carpeted floors. But she knew better. She hadn’t spent over 2,000 years on this earth and died more times than she could count without paying attention to the signs. Today would be a burning day.

“Not again,” she muttered before dropping to the chair. There was no telling when she’d start feeling the temperature rise or when the first flame would lick her skin, but it would be today; that she knew.

Davena stood and set the book on the table before moving around the sparsely decorated small farmhouse she’d rented for the past twenty years. Having died numerous times, she quickly learned that only the necessities should be purchased. There was nothing sentimental within these walls. No pictures of friends or family, no trinket passed down from one generation to the next, no secret recipe that only the family knew about.

The only secret Davena had was that every so often, she would burst into flames for no rhyme or reason. As far as she knew, she was the only person… thing like this. Years of scouring every library known to mankind, even a few lesser known ones, left her empty-handed. Of all the things that were out there, she wasn’t any of them. Besides, it wasn’t like Davena would remember anything, she only retained certain memories of her previous lives. What the fuck good did that do her?

At the edge of the sink, she stared out the window. The sun was high in the sky, filtering through the bright green leaves and in the window. On any other day the rays that warmed her clammy hands would have brought her comfort, but today was not any other day. Sure, she could run, try and get as far away as possible, but she would still burn. There was no running away from that.

Standing tall, her hands slipped from the counter. There, in their wake, were scorch marks, eroding the blue and white tile down to the wood beam. With tears in her eyes, she turned and ran from the room. It wasn’t the flames that scared her anymore, it was the pain that went with it. Davena felt every lick of flame as it devoured her flesh, seared through her muscles and bones; turning her into nothing more than ash.

The iron door handle turned red hot under her touch, melting into a pool on the floor. With a screech, Davena jumped back and watched as flames engulfed her hands. “No, no, no. Please, no!” Her voice was already wrecked with emotion. The back of her neck was next, filling her nostrils with the stench of burned hair and flesh. On instinct, she dropped to the floor and began to roll around, but the attempt to put out the flames was futile.

It was when the flames melted the clothes to her body that Davena gave up. She lay there, curled into a ball, wailing as the fire consumed her. The orange and red flames spread out over the floor and climbed the walls, devouring everything in their path, leaving nothing but ash.


	2. Chapter 2

Davena woke to the rain, the cold drops like ice, smearing the soot on her still warm, smoking skin. She pushed up to her knees and coughed, retching up the thick black substance until her head felt like it was going explode, until her lungs and ribs ached. Her body shook as she stood, as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings. 

_Where the hell am I?_ Driving a hand through her hair, Davena realized that she was naked, covered only by the ashes and soot that now hid her feet.

There were three things she did know. Her name, “Davena Garnet Rowe,” as if saying it aloud would bring everything back in a rush. She also knew that buried behind the barn, fifty paces back, was a duffel that had everything she needed; several changes of clothes and enough cash to start over. The third thing was that she didn’t have much time; sirens rang out, growing closer with every passing second.

Davena turned and ran, naked and covered in ash, across the property, all but jumping behind the barn. Forcing herself to slow down, she counted to fifty as she walked and dug up the duffel bag. The horn of the fire truck blew as it pulled to a stop, making her heart jump into her throat. With sapphire eyes, she risked a glance and watched as men descended from the truck.

 _Run, Davena!_ With a snarl, Davena tore off through the woods.

* * *

Sam sat in the library, manila folders and books piled on the table. He had been up for longer than was socially acceptable after finding an article about a house fire that had no official cause. One website speculated spontaneous combustion, but there had been no discovery of a starting point and no remains. Still, Sam had the feeling this was right up their alley.

“Dude, have you even slept?” Dean dropped into the chair with a grunt, propping his sock-clad feet on the table.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Get this-”

Dean’s head fell back, “Man, we just got back from one of your ‘get this’ cases. Turned out to be a big pile of nothin’.”

“But, Dean-”

“No!” His gravelly voice echoed through the room.

With a brow arched, Sam spun the laptop around to show Dean the articles he had found. “Not even for spontaneous combustion?”

“What? No way. SC is bullshit. Everyone knows that.”

“That seems to be the theory.”

Amber and pine eyes shot back and forth, taking in all the information before he pushed the laptop away, “Dude, there’s no remains.”

“The house was rented by a Davena Rowe, she’s been missing ever since.”

“So this is a missing person’s case.”

Sam shook his head, “No, I think it’s more than that. I did some digging into Davena-”

“Of course you did.”

“Turns out, she’s got lots of properties to her name.”

“So she moves around a lot, big deal.” Dean was starting to get irritated. He hadn’t even had his coffee yet and here Sam was, throwing information at him like he expected it to stick.

“Going all the way back to the early 1800’s?”

Dean scraped a hand over his face, failing to hide the groan that escaped, “Maybe it’s a family name.”

“I thought of that, too.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.”

Sam clicked a few buttons, turned the laptop back to his brother, and threaded his fingers together as he waited for Dean’s reaction; which didn’t take long. A dark blonde eyebrow shot up, “You sure this is the same woman?”

“Far as I can tell.”

Dean squinted, leaning closer to the screen, “What’s that around her head?”

“That’s what I haven’t figured out yet.”

Tipping his head a little, Dean tried to get a better look, “It looks like a… halo!”

Sam nodded in agreement, “Keep looking.”

Dean clicked through the photos until there weren’t any more. In the last one, she was wearing a dress that covered every inch of her skin up to her neck. Her hair was braided and pinned into place under an honest to goodness bonnet. Behind her was a saloon and sheriff’s station, looking every bit like the old west. 

“Is this-”

“I’m still having the authenticity verified.”

“A frigging halo in each picture.”

“I thought that maybe it was a sun flare of some kind, but she has it even when she’s not in direct sunlight.”

Sitting back in the chair, Dean was almost fully awake, “Can I at least get some coffee before we head out?”

* * *

Dean pulled the Impala to a stop outside the police station, “You don’t think we should go in there as FBI?”

“Not this time.”

“So we’re working on an article-”

“About spontaneous combustion.”

“Dude, you think they’re really gonna buy that shit?”

Sam turned to his brother, “It’s what the article said, so why not?”

“I don’t know, Sammy.”

“You got a better idea?” Grinding his teeth, Dean shook his head. “Didn’t think so. Follow my lead.” Sam was out of the car before Dean could reply.

* * *

Deputy Jefferson, a rookie who still wore his blues with pride, smiled wide, “There somethin’ I can help you with?”

Sam, pen and paper in hand, was the first to approach the counter, “We’re doing an article on the house fire from last week and we were hoping to talk with Sheriff Olinski.”

“Sure thing. Have a seat while I let him know you’re here.”

* * *

Sheriff Olinski shook their hands before offering them a seat, “Jefferson said you’re here about the Rowe fire.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam nodded, opening the notebook again.

“I’m not sure what else I can tell you that I haven’t already told every other paper in town.”

Dean cleared his throat, “We’re not with any local papers.”

“Oh… well then, where you boys from?”

After a quick glare to his brother, Sam turned his attention back to the sheriff, “Minneapolis, The Star Tribune.”

“Huh. I wouldn’t have thought a house fire would get the attention of the Tribune.”

“There are similarities between several fires that we are looking into.”

“Alright, ask away.”

* * *

Dean cracked open a bottle of beer and looked over the notes from the interview. “I don’t know, Sammy.”

“Don’t know about what.”

“It looks like a normal fire, they all do.”

“You can’t tell me you don’t see that there’s something else going on here.”

Sitting back in the chair, Dean took a long pull of beer. “No, I see it. I just mean… it’s not going to be easy.”

Sam scoffed, “Since when is anything we do easy?”

“This Davena chick… she’s got no relatives listed, no close friends, but she’s been renting the property for twenty years.”

Nodding, Sam placed his elbows on the table, “Her record is spotless. Like, eerily spotless. Not so much as a damn parking ticket.”

“Olinski said he only saw her a few times in town, right?”

“Because there was a weather emergency.”

“Which means she had to have had things delivered to her house,” Dean opened a new browser window and searched for stores that delivered. The results were less than five. “Yahtzee!”


	3. Chapter 3

After a long, cool shower and sub-par room service, Davena fell back on the bed, exhaustion settling into her bones. She raised her hands and flexed them, wincing at the flare of pain in her joints, watching as bone and muscle moved beneath the skin. No less than ten hours ago she had burst into flames and died; only to rise from the ashes.

“Like a phoenix,” her voice was still wrecked from all the screaming and smoke she had inhaled as she burned alive. Chuckling in disbelief, she ran her hands over her face.

_A phoenix. That’s fucking ridiculous. Things like that don’t exist, do they?_

Pain erupted in the back of her head as memories came forth. In one, she was holding a flashlight while walking down a series of dark tunnels, searching for a shaman that might have the answers to her questions. In another, there were scrolls upon scrolls at her disposal. One of them held the truth, it just **had** to. Another memory and another, back to back. Each memory was of a different time, delving further into the past; it was like a movie she couldn’t stop watching.

Rolling off the bed, she fell to her knees with her head in her hands until the pain ebbed. All of her searching for answers and she had never found out the truth of what she was. Davena fished a small bottle of whiskey from the mini bar, wincing as the amber liquid burned down her throat.

_Rise up. Rise like the day. Rise unafraid. In spite of the ache, you’ll rise up, and you’ll do it a thousand times again._

Davena jumped to her feet and with her fists raised. She spun in a circle, searching for the source of the voice, “What the fuck?! Who’s there?”

Nothing… no one was there, just Davena and her ragged breathing. She dropped to the floor and checked under the bed, even though she knew she’d find nothing. The small closet was next, followed by the cupboard beneath the sink. Having triple checked the locks on the only door and window, Davena turned off the lights and crawled into bed, but sleep didn’t come so easy. Instead, her brain decided to focus on the families and friends she used to have and how no matter how hard she tried, she always buried them.

* * *

 

Dean shook the hand of the manager of Coborn's, the last grocery store that delivered groceries. He dropped into the Impala where Sam had just gotten off the phone. “Davena was a loyal customer, ordered groceries once a month.”

Finished with his notes, Sam turned to his brother, “She also had several prescriptions delivered.”

“What for?”

“For starters, brisdelle.”

Blinking twice, Dean tilted his head, “Come again.”

Chuckling, Sam repeated the name, “It’s to help control hot flashes in menopausal women.”

“She didn’t look a day over 40.”

“Well, all women are different, Dean.”

Dean, starting the engine, rolled his eyes, “I’m not a complete idiot.”

“Never said you were.” When Dean cut a cold glare at his brother, Sam tapped his pen against the notebook, “There’s a couple more that have me curious; corticosteroids.”

“What are those?”

Finishing a Google search, Sam clicked on a link to Wikipedia. “Corticosteroids are a class of steroid hormones that are produced in the adrenal cortex of vertebrates, as well as the synthetic analogues of those hormones.”

“Wanna repeat that in layman's?”

“I think Davena is overdosing on vitamin D. If you have too much, it’s toxic; creating a buildup of calcium in your blood, also called hypercalcemia. But that only happens if you’re actually taking too much of it.”

“And you don’t think she was.”

Sam sighed and ran a hand over his face, “It’s going to be hard to prove without a body.”

* * *

 

It was dark when Dean stopped the car next to where Davena’s house once stood. Armed with flashlights, the brothers met at the ticking engine.

Dean shook his head as he swung the flashlight back and forth, “What are we even looking for?”

Sam shrugged, just as confused as Dean, “If I knew the answer to that, you think we’d be here?”

“Shut up.”

“Dude, you asked.” Sam’s chuckle followed Dean as he started walking around the perimeter of the house. Even after a couple of days, the nauseating smell of fire and smoke hung thick in the air. Dean was about to step into the ashes when Sam gave a shrill whistle, motioning for his brother to follow. It only took a handful of long-legged strides for Dean to catch up.

Sam was pointing to the damp earth, “You see that?”

“Footprints. Looks like they were in a hurry.” They followed the prints until they disappeared behind the barn. The tall grass had been broken and stomped down as whoever it was, rushed away from the protection of the barn.

About fifty paces into the woods, Sam hunkered down next to a semi- freshly dug hole, “And the plot thickens.”

“What would she have buried out here?”

Sam shrugged as he stood, “If it were me, I’d bury some cash and clothes; whatever I needed to start over.”

Looking back at the property, Dean shook his head, “How the fuck did she survive that?”

“You think she was **in** the fire?”

“I want to say no, that it’s fucking impossible,” Dean began walking back to the demolished house and shone his light where the footprints started, “but the first print doesn’t start in the mud, it starts in there.”

“Son of a bitch, you’re right.”

Chuckling, Dean turned back to the woods, “Course I am.”

“Shut up.”

They walked back to the freshly dug up hole, shining their lights into the dense woods, “The firemen didn’t report seeing anyone. I think she went through there.”

* * *

 

Davena jumped down from the rig, not bothering to toss a goodbye over her shoulder at the overly friendly driver, his curse cut off by the slamming of a door. She ignored the horn and the squeal of rubber on tar as he sped away. Was she thankful for the ride? Of course she was. But she didn’t ask him to grab her thigh and tell her exactly what he expected from her in return.

_Bastard’s lucky to be alive._

The diner was almost empty and the people that were there stared at her as she entered. Following the instruction of the sign that greeted her, she found a booth in the back corner and sat down.

“Mornin’, I’m Betty and I’ll be your server. Can I get you something to drink?”

Davena accepted the paper menu from the older woman, “Coffee, black.”

“Comin’ right up, dear.” She wasn’t lying. In no more than half a minute, a steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of Davena.

“Would you like a few more minutes?”

“I’ll take pancakes with a side of bacon.”

Betty’s smile faltered slightly when Davena looked up at her with deep sapphire eyes, “Comin’ right up.”

Davena’s brows furrowed, “What is it?”

“I don’t want you to take it the wrong way.”

Smirking, Davena waved her hand, “Hit me, Betty.”

“Well… it’s just you have the most beautiful eyes.”

It wasn’t anything she hadn’t heard before, but the compliment was always nice to hear.  “Thank you.”

“Anyway, I’ll put your order in. Shouldn’t be too long, dear.”

Davena gave another wave of her hand before gripping the coffee cup, “I got time.”

* * *

 

Sam gave a shout to get his brother’s attention, “Skid marks. Someone hit their brakes hard.”

“So she jumped out and almost got hit. Then what, hitched a ride?”

“That’s my guess.”

Dean scraped a hand over his face, “Alright. Let’s go back to the motel, get our stuff, and head home. There might be more there.”

“Sounds good to me.”

* * *

 

“If I may, where ya headed?” Betty pointed to the large duffel next to Davena.

She swallowed the last of the coffee, “Don't really have any place in mind. Just needed a change of scenery.”

“Well, I don't know if you're interested, but we could use some help around here. Pay is good, comes with benefits, and an apartment on the other side of the lot. Tourist season is right around the corner and that means long, busy days and as long as you keep the customers happy, they’ll be generous with their tips.”

Davena had been on the road off and on for almost a week, it was time to make a new home. “Where is here, exactly?”

Betty winked playfully, “Duluth.”

She held out her hand as she stood, “I’ll take it.”


	4. Chapter 4

**ONE YEAR LATER**

Carrying several plates full of hot food, Davena wound her way through the packed diner, almost tumbling over one of the pint-sized patrons. Rolling her eyes and chuckling, she made it to the table without dropping a plate. After the patrons thanked her and she promised to be back, she turned and growled playfully, picking up the trip hazard and running her fingers along his sides as he squirmed and squealed.

“You know the price to be paid for runnin’ through here, don’cha, Mikey?” The child squirmed hard in her arms as she reached the most ticklish part; the back of his neck.

The 6 year old covered his face with his hands and screamed in laughter, “I give, Dee, I GIVE!”

Davena dropped the child in his mother’s arms with a triumphant smile, “I thought so. Now stay with mama, alright? I’d hate to have to tickle you again.”

His mom, knowing first hand how much trouble Mikey was, gave a grateful smile which Davena dismissed with a wave of her hand. Truth was, she loved children. From the way they looked at her with such awe and a desire to learn in their eyes, to their pure joyous laughter, and everything in between. Yes, even the crying was something Davena loved hearing. Not a day had gone by that she didn’t want children of her own, but deep down, she knew she couldn’t… wouldn’t. A year had passed and she was no closer to finding out _what_ she was, but what she did know was that she wouldn’t put herself through the pain of burying another child; she had lost too many to count.

Heading behind the counter to settle several bills, she felt it; the tell-tale prickle dancing along the skin on the back of her neck. She swallowed hard as her hands began to shake. _Why now?_ She hadn’t been here that long; she wasn’t ‘old’, she hadn’t gotten gravely injured. So what was going to happen to make today a burning day? 

“You ok, doll?” Betty’s voice made Davena jump, dropping the debit card of a customer onto the counter.

“Y- yeah, I’m fine. Just got a weird feelin’.”

Betty raised a brow, “What kinda feeling?”

Davena shook her head and ran the card through the card reader, “It’s nothin’, Betty.”

“You don’t look like it’s nothing.”  The older woman was a firm believer in things that didn’t have a reasonable explanation, and if there was anything that couldn’t be explained here, it was Davena.

She stuck a pen into the bun high on her head and faced Betty, “I’m fine, Betty. Promise.” _Please, just let it go._

The rest of the day passed in a blur; avoiding Betty as tourists came and went, raving about the food and leaving generous tips. By the time the sun set and it was closing time, Davena’s feet throbbed and the prickling on the back of her neck was the strongest it had ever been. Betty tried to send Davena home, but she insisted since Betty had closed the night before and her oldest daughter was visiting.

The till was counted three times and the deposit slip was filled out before being placed in the bag with the cash and credit slips; that’s when the prickle blossomed into searing pain. She grabbed the back of her neck and hissed, dropping to her knees behind the counter. When it ebbed slightly, she pulled herself upright just as someone approached the still unlocked door. The bell above the door tinkled softly as a hooded figure entered.

Davena forced a smile, “I’m sorry, but we’re closed.”

His voice was deep, menacing, thick, “Gimme the cash.”

“I can’t.” _Yes you can. Just give him the fucking money._

The gun was cocked as he aimed it at her head, “I’m not going to say it again, bitch. Give me the cash.”

“Don’t call me that.” A white hot pain exploded in her hands and she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out. Focusing on the lock, she tipped her head slightly, watching as the deadbolt was thrown almost silently.

The man took a step closer, “I’m the one with a gun, I’ll call you what I want.”

“A gun won’t save you.” And that’s when the power roaring through her veins erupted.

His eyes grew wide as her hair began to glow, spreading along her skin as if she were doused in oil. Stumbling back to the door, he fumbled with the lock, grunting in frustration when it wouldn’t open. “What the **fuck** is going on?!” He tried shooting the glass, but Davena was using her power to stop the bullets before they reached the glass.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Turning, he watched as the light pulsing under skin became blindingly bright. With shaking hands, he ejected the empty clip from the gun and quickly slammed a new one home, chambering a round mere seconds before pulling the trigger; emptying the gun with a guttural cry. Despite being able to stop the bullets earlier, all her focus and energy missed one. One rogue bullet tore through her throat, driving her to the floor with wide eyes and a wet spray of blood. He should have ran when he had the chance.

Standing next to the lifeless body, he kicked her foot, jumping back when she didn’t move. Swallowing the last lump of fear in his throat, he grabbed the deposit bag from the counter. Just as he turned to leave, a crackling sound grabbed his attention, followed quickly by the smell of burning flesh. Flames erupted from behind the counter as he turned around, the shock wave sending him to the floor. He scrambled back to the door, but it was still locked; not that he would have made it out if he had somehow gotten it unlocked in time. They rushed toward him, enveloping him as he screamed.

* * *

 

Dean yawned as the Impala sped down the interstate. Sam was stretched out in the back, eyes closed, arms crossed, hair blowing in the cool breeze. The last hunt had been exhausting; not just one, but two poltergeists. He was getting too old for this shit. Being thrown around by a poltergeist was a young man’s game. He took a drink of the once-piping-hot coffee when the phone rang.

“This is Dean.”

He knew who it was before she said her name. “Heya Dean, it’s Donna, Donna Hanscum.”

Chuckling, Dean pulled over to the side of the road and flipped on the hazards. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know, the usual.”

“Uh huh, and what's the usual consist of today?”

Donna looked around to make sure no one was listening in, “I got something here that looks like you boys might be interested in. You happen to be close to Minnesota?”

“As luck would have it, we are.”

“That's good news. Come on up to Duluth.”

“Anyway clue as to what to expect?”

“Local diner burned down last night.”

Dean reached over the seat and smacked Sam's leg, putting the phone on speaker, “Anything else, Donna?”

“Oh yeah! We found footprints headed out behind the diner.”

Sam looked completely confused until Dean whispered that the diner had been burnt down. “Be there in 4 hours.”

* * *

 

Donna hugged Sam as he was the first out of the car, “Thanks for coming. I gotta admit, I’m a little stumped by this one.”

Dean smiled as he hugged the short blonde, “I’m glad you called. If this is what we think it is, we’ve been looking for something like this for a year.”

“Yeah?” Dark brown eyes sparkled with curiosity, “You think this is the same person?”

“Only one way to find out. Where’d you find the prints?”

Donna led the brothers to the back of the diner and pointed, “They start right there where the register was.”

Sam swung a flashlight over the still smoking ashes, “Just like before, it’s slightly disturbed, as if someone came up from beneath them.”

“You mean to say that there were two people that died in the fire?”

Dean shrugged as he turned, seeing if there were tracks leading away from the diner, “That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out about her.”

“You don’t mean Davena, do ya?”

Both brothers stared hard at the sheriff, “How’d you know that name?”

Donna swallowed thickly under the intense gazes before answering Dean, “She worked here, closed last night. But no one’s seen her since.”

* * *

 

Davena, naked and covered head to toe in ash, snuck into her apartment. All she needed to do was take a quick shower and grab the emergency bag from under the bed. She hadn’t really had time to bury it since she thought she had a bit longer than a year before she burned again. She was pulling on a top when there was a knock at the door. Holding her breath, she hoped they would take the silence for no one being home, but another set of knocks filled the small apartment, followed by an all-too-familiar voice.

“Davena? Sweetie, are you in there?”

 _Damn it, Betty!_ Gritting her teeth, Davena quickly stepped into a pair of jeans and buttoned them before opening the door, “Hi Betty.”

The older woman dragged her eyes over Davena, narrowing them in suspicion, “What happened?”

“N- nothin’.”

“The diner is burned to the ground, Davena. Don’t tell me nothing happened!”

Davean backed away as Betty approached, “I… I can’t explain it.”

“I knew there wasss sssomething familiar about you!”

“What do you mean? There’s nothing famil-,”

“Don’t try to bullshit a bullshitter, Davena.”

She dropped to the chair with a grunt, “Betty… I have to leave, the sooner the better. Can you help me?”

“I’m sssorry, dear, I can’t do that.” Before Davena could ask why not, she was driven to the ground by something in Betty’s hand.

* * *

 

Donna had just driven away and the brothers were about to drop into the Impala when something caught their attention, someone was running through the trees. With guns drawn and flashlights lighting the way, they took off in pursuit. They could see long hair whipping behind the person running away, but as fast as she was, their legs were longer and they were gaining on her.

“Hey, we’re not here to hurt you!” Sam shouted, hoping his words would have an affect on her.

“You really think that’s gonna work this time, Sammy?”

“Worth a shot!”

Davena looked over her shoulder and that was a mistake because she didn’t see a low-hanging branch; she was unconscious before she hit the ground. They slowed to a stop and before checking her vitals, made sure she wasn’t armed. Finding no weapons, Sam checked for a pulse, blowing out a heavy breath when it beat strong under his fingers.

“Where do you wanna take her?” Dean took Sam’s pistol and flashlight as he lifted Davena off the ground.

Sam shrugged as he followed his brother out of the woods, “Motel room?”

“You sure about that?”

“Hell no.”


	5. Chapter 5

Pain, that was the first thing Davena noticed as she stirred. There was a tightness in her neck, shoulders, and back that would need more than a hot shower and a glass of wine to cure. Her head throbbed, specifically her right temple, and there was this strange tingling sensation that danced along every inch of her skin. But the pain wasn’t what made her eyes fly open; it was the fact that she was shackled to a chair.

It didn’t matter how hard she yanked on the chains at her wrists and ankles, or how she arched and twisted her back while pushing against the floor; the chair wouldn’t budge. It was no use, there was no getting out of the bonds.

A memory from the night before hit her, or was it longer than that? She didn’t know how long she had been unconscious.  

_Focusing on the lock, she tipped her head slightly, watching as the deadbolt was thrown almost silently._

With a smirk she concentrated, gritting her teeth as white-hot pain bubbled just beneath the surface of her skin. She focused on the locks and closed her eyes, willing them to open. Again and again she tried, but the only thing she succeeded in was exacerbating the pain in her temple. Having reached the end of her patience, Davena roared until her throat ached.

The door opened with a creak and light followed two men into the dark room. One of the men flipped on an overhead light and it momentarily blinded Davena. With her eyes screwed shut, she listened as their boots scuffed against the floor, the scrape of metal on concrete as chairs were maneuvered, and their gruff voices as they whispered harshly to one another.

“Who are you?” Davena’s voice was rough from screaming.

Dean cleared his throat before answering, “We were going to ask you the same thing.”

Finally used to the light, she opened her eyes, finding that one of the men was seated in a chair while the other sat perched on the edge of the table. She assumed that he was the one in charge.

The burn of metal against skin made her wince, “I asked you first.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Touche. I’m Dean, that’s Sam. Your turn.”

“Davena… Davena Rowe.”

Sam opened a thick file, “Now that we’ve confirmed your identity, **what** are you?”

Davena tried to look confused by the question, but the kaleidoscope of his eyes took her breath away. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t bullshit us!” Dean pushed off the table and started pacing, “You’re not human, that much we all know.”

“Dean!” Meeting the exasperated gaze of his brother, Dean waved a hand at their ‘guest’, but didn’t have a chance to say anything.

“I ain’t lying. I don’t know what I am.”

Two sets of eyes flew to Davena. “What d’ya mean, you don’t know?” Sam’s voice was as gentle as his gaze.

There was an itch on the back of Davena’s neck and it was starting to make her eye twitch. “I’ll tell you, I swear, but can you **please** let me outta these?” the chains rattled loudly as she tried maneuvering her body to move against the chair.

Dean shook his head, “No way. We’ve seen what you’re capable of.”

“You think I **wanted** to burn down those buildings, to kill those people?”

If he didn’t have such a good poker face, Dean would have flinched at the fire sparking behind her sapphire eyes. “Didn’t you?”

Sam shouted at his brother to stop and stood up, fishing the keys from his jeans. “In the woods, did you hear me say we didn’t want to hurt you?”

“I vaguely remember something like that.”

“I meant it, we don’t want to hurt you. We just want to talk,” despite his words, Sam didn’t walk toward her. Curious as to why, Davena looked at the floor and that’s when she understood what was thrumming along her skin; the shackles were enchanted, as was the drawing she was sitting in the middle of. She couldn’t use her power no matter how hard she tried, and it wasn’t because something was wrong with her.

 _Who **are** these guys?_ “You think I’m going to kill you.”

Dean reached behind him and withdrew an angel blade, spinning it expertly between his fingers, “We have no reason to trust you.”

Davena narrowed her eyes and all but spit her words at him, “Trust?! **You** chased me down in the middle of the night. How am I supposed to trust you?”

Unconsciously gripping the weapon tighter, Dean ground his teeth and took a step toward the enchanted circle. It was Sam’s hand on his shoulder that stopped him.

“Put it down, Dean!” The brothers stared at one another for a moment before Dean did as his little brother commanded. With a huff, he sat down and kicked his feet onto the table.

Sam smiled tightly as he faced Davena, “You have absolutely no reason to trust us, you just gotta take me at my word.”

The itch was beginning to creep up her scalp, “OK! Just get me outta these!”

Sam dropped behind Davena and quickly freed her hands before turning his attention to the locks at her ankles. She dug her nails into the back of her neck and along her scalp, sighing heavily as the itch receded.

“Better?” Davena looked at Sam and nodded, thanking him as she stood. She tried to walk out of the circle, but couldn’t break the threshold of red paint. It didn’t matter how many times she tried or how hard she shoved herself against the invisible barrier, she remained trapped inside.

Sam smiled shyly, “Until one of us breaks the seal-”

“You assholes!” Davina roared and slammed her fists against the wall neither of them could see.

Dean crossed his arms and chuckled, “Ain’t the first time we’ve been called that, sweetheart.”

Stepping in front of his brother, blocking him from Davena’s view, Sam held out a hand, “You have to understand, Davena, until we know… what you are, it’s safer if you’re in there.”

Breathing heavily, Davena clenched her fists and tried to keep her anger in check. “What do you want to know about me?”

Sam sighed and pocketed the keys that were no longer needed, “What can you tell us?”

Davena scoffed, “You’re not going to be able to write it all down.”

A cell phone was pulled from Sam’s pocket, “Got it covered.”

* * *

 

It was almost twelve hours later when Dean and Sam emerged from the room, rubbing their tired eyes and stretching their sore muscles. Davena followed close behind, taking in everything about what they had called ‘The Bunker.’ Truth be told, this place was bigger than any bunker she had ever seen; and that had been a lot considering how old she believed she was. With everything she told them about herself, the only conclusion that they all reached was that Davena was a phoenix, but there was no definitive proof of it. That’s when they agreed to a truce and Sam released her from the circle.

Davena gasped in awe as she entered the library. It wasn't because of its beauty, but its size; the room was enormous and had so many bookshelves, she didn't even bother to try and keep count. “You guys **live** here?”

Dean smirked in that overconfident way everyone ‘loved’ about him, “We’re legacies.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Our grandfather was part of a secret organization called the Men of Letters.”

“Wait… say that again.”

With his brows pulled together, Sam watched as Davena shifted on her feet, “Why, does it mean something?”

Without answering, she dropped to a chair and chewed on the inside of her cheek, muttering _Men of Letters_ under her breath as she scoured through the nonsensical jumble of memories.

Dean disappeared for a minute, returning with a bottle of water, which Sam placed in front of the shocked woman. The brothers watched sapphire eyes flick back and forth as she continued to mutter to herself, slapping the table every once in awhile when a memory would dance out of reach.

“You think we should do somethin’?”

Shrugging, Sam looked at Dean from the corner of his eye, “Like what?”

Davena looked at Sam then, recognition set deep in her features, “Henry Winchester.”

“What do you know about Henry?”

“What do **you** know about Henry?”

Sam sat across from her and folded his hands together, “Henry was our grandfather, the one we told you about. Your turn.”

Davena drained the bottle, gasping for air when she was done, “Henry and the Men of Letters tried to help me.”


End file.
